The Galaxy Meetings

four

When I go to the hill the next night, Leila isn't there. Leila seems to love and know this place well – so it was unusual. But, I knew she was fine. She's just angry at me for asking her about her past. Honestly, I had no idea about her parents.

Looking back – I can see I was really rude. Unintentionally, might I add – but still crossing so many lines I can't uncross.

When I walk to the left side of the fence, I look over to the house where Leila lives, and in the only window with a light still turned on a girl with her head dipping low, her sleek dark chocolate hair hiding her face as she looked down. Instantly, judging by the beautiful hair, I knew it was Leila.

Then, I notice a sign below her window that read;

Welcome to Emerson Care Home! 

I sigh. Oh, Leila. Why didn't you just say?

On my hands and feet, I trudge back up the hill. As I sit down, I look up into the sky Leila finds so fascinating. And when I really, really concentrate, I see the beauty in the stars.

I see the worthiness hidden beneath the plain spheres of fire and gas I saw before tonight.

***

Leila's POV

Currently, I was in town on my own, sipping a chocolate milkshake. I think of Chase and his chocolate hair and his damn chocolate eyes that you were more likely to get lost in than a person in a maze. "Are you finished?" a voice came from behind me. I turn around to find a boy with dirty blonde hair and big green eyes staring at me. I shake my plastic cup only to realise I had been slurping at an almost empty beaker.

"Y-Yeah, thanks." I hand the boy who wore a t-shirt with the shop's logo on it my cup.

"I'm Blake Collins. And you are?"

I contemplate telling this Blake that names are just a meaningless label, but he was being particularly charming so I decide against it. "Uh, Leila Clarke."

"Leila is such a pretty name. I think I had a hamster called Leila..."

I laugh, looking down at my lap and smiling to myself. "Thanks, I guess."

"Random, but what would you say if I asked you out on a date for more than just a one pound milkshake? I know a great restaurant called my apartment kitchen, with a great chef called yours truly, Blake."

I laugh. "What's on the menu?" I ask teasingly.

"I do a great macaroni and cheese. And the ice cream dessert is very fancy."

"Well then I'll happily accept."

"You won't regret it," Blake promises me, winking. "Meet me here on Friday at six, okay?"

"I'll be there." I assure him, standing up. I wince when my chair scrapes against the lino ground and I leave with no more words to Blake but a friendly wave.